DA Revelations Episode 12: Intervention
by AngelExposed
Summary: Remy's mood is suffering badly and his strange behaviour tips Kitty off that it's more than depression that is causing him to act so bizarre. R
1. Chapter 1 Therapy

DA Revelations

Episode 12 - Intervention

Chapter 1: Therapy

The sounds coming from the ridiculously large-for-an-office fish tank against the side wall were somewhat distracting; the gentle sound of bubbles and the gentle hum from the filtration system. He glanced towards the fish as they gracefully floated across the grey of the water, flitting in and out of the green plants. One fish with strange bugling eyes stopped at the corner of the tank, seeming to stare out, as if it could almost see him.

_I feel like I'm the one in the fish tank,_ Remy thought nervously as he tried to get more comfortable on the leather couch; every time he moved it made that creak that told him the leather was new and had not yet settled into the eventual distressed state it would become.

Dr. Soberman crossed one leg over the other, his notepad he set upon his knee, "I like fish – love watching them. So relaxing and calming to look at," he scratched his beard. "Do you like fish?"

Remy pondered, "On a plate with lemon and a nice salad...otherwise, I've never been a huge lover of animals."

The Psychiatrist chuckled, "never had a pet as a kid?"

"Never had a _childhood_ as a kid," Remy remarked, all too quickly, all too coldly. He hadn't meant for it to come out so badly.

"Is that when your depression began? Your childhood?"

"No," Remy replied, "at least, I don't _think_ so. I don't _remember_ ever bein' sad much when I was a kid, but then...there isn't much I can remember about it."

"Your childhood would be a very good place to start," said Dr. Soberman. Remy found irony in the man's name. Soberman. Sober Man. Remy ironically wanted to be a sober man, but would Soberman be able to make that happen or would it take the Alcoholics Anonymous meetings that the Professor was suggesting he should attend?

"Like I said, I don't really _remember_ a whole lot about it," Remy looked to the floor, he pursed his lips. He wished he'd never surrendered himself to the idea of going through therapy in the first place. "Why is it important? You think stuff that happened to me as a _kid_ actually affects any part of my life now? 'Cause I'm telling you, it just _doesn't. _Everything going on _now_ happened after I came to Bayville – nothing to do with my life before that," he said irritably, he tapped his fingers impatiently on the right armrest of the couch.

"It's important, because how you start out in life can influence who you become, regardless of when things happen."

"Fine," said Remy, he looked away, "I was born at some point in 1982 – supposedly. I don't _know_ if it's true...I don't really have a _real_ birth certificate to tell me otherwise – just one that was faked so there'd be no questions when it came to later in life. I don't remember my parents at all – what I do remember really vaguely is that I had a mother called Gabrielle. Somehow, I ended up orphaned, and on the streets of New Orleans...and there I lived until I made the mistake of pickpocketing the wrong person, and was taken in by him – he adopted me."

"How did you survive alone on the streets?" Soberman wrote something down from where he sat several feet away on his chair.

"I don't know – stealing, I suppose."

"How old where you when you ended up with your adoptive-father?"

"I don't know...I don't remember..." Remy frowned, "maybe seven or eight."

"Why do you have such a hard time remembering?" Dr. Soberman asked seriously.

"Because...I guess it wasn't the _best_ time of my life. I was always _different_...bullied."

"You let them bully you?" asked the Psychiatrist.

"At first I did...didn't know any better, really...at school, they used to call me Diable..." he paused, "Devil..."

"Because of your eyes?"

"Among other things...my powers, they manifested when I was about eleven, and that was back when the world wasn't as educated about us mutants as it is now – not that it ever made the slightest bit of difference."

"You said you let them bully you at first?"

"I asked Jean-Luc...my father...for help when the bullying got ugly...he started to teach me how to fight...not just stick up for myself but _really_ fight...I think I might have been eleven...it was around the time my sister left home."

"You have a sister?"

"Chantal. Jean-Luc's only daughter. She had a mind of her own – didn't wanna marry who Jean-Luc said she should marry and she left home...it's kind of complicated."

"Your life sounds complicated and I've only known you twenty minutes."

Remy sighed, "I was taught to be a thief from the time I was eleven onwards. And I mean _really _taught...and it was the only thing in life I actually learned _well._ But me and Jean-Luc, we didn't get along...he was always trying to tell me how to live my life, y'know."

"All parents do this – it doesn't mean..."

"No...this was properly dictating HOW to live my life. I met this girl and I had my first...I lost my virginity to her...and I _knew _that we were too young, but...I was old in the head for my age...I wasn't like the other kids who were out there at the arcade playin' shootin' games..."

"Did you love the girl?" Soberman asked; Remy thought the question was incredibly stupid – how could he know if he'd been in love as a hormone driven fourteen year old?

But he thought about this, and came up with his answer, "Bella Donna?" he asked, he scoffed, "No. I've _never _loved her. I've never loved _anyone_ other than the woman I'm with _now. _Bella Donna was just a starting point...I liked her but not well enough to _care_ about her all that much. I just wanted her...she was mature lookin' for her age, she had the curves the other girls my age didn't have, and I _felt_ older than I was. It just felt right even though I knew it wasn't."

"How did Bella Donna play a part in your life after that encounter?"

"She was from this rival family and her Daddy was none too happy when they found out about that I'd _sullied_ her. That was what he called it. Sullied. Like I'd _ruined _her. Like no man could ever have her after I had."

"Do you think you ruined her?"

"That's a complicated question. Maybe? Maybe not."

"What happened after her father broached the subject?"

"Her daddy and _mine_ decided to come to a deal that when me and her were eighteen we'd get married to _bring peace_ between the families."

"And did you?"

"No. Wasn't any way in hell I was getting married. Didn't even _believe_ in marriage at that point. I ran away a few times, got caught and brought back, but when I was seventeen I took off for good – it's when I came to Bayville for the first time."

Remy hated having to reveal all these things to a stranger, it made him uncomfortable. The more and more he was revealing, the less and less he felt like _himself_ and it was strangely odd that instead of feeling better about talking about any of this to someone, he only felt more bitter, more depressed.

"Seems to me you'd already lived a very troubled life before coming here...and you don't think at all these things might have affected how you are now?" Dr Soberman asked, his hand still busy scribbling in shorthand whatever Remy was telling him.

Remy frowned at the man, wondering whatever the guy was going to be able to establish from a childhood that had _never mattered._ "I was a happy and well adjusted kid when I came to Bayville. I'd had problems but I wasn't fucking depressed. None of that mattered, I didn't _care_ about any of it. My life was _fun,_ it was _adventures and fighting_ and havin' my _way _with as many girls as I wanted without even _caring _and it was _not_ complicated. I took care of myself, I didn't need family, or friends. I just got by...until I came here."

Dr. Soberman shifted in his seat a little, uncomfortable apparently with Remy's agitation. "So it wasn't until you came here to Bayville...that you began to connect to people?"

Remy sighed and stared deep into space, trying to see his life again through his mind, as if he could project it right there onto the wall. "I was nineteen and...lets just say I'd been around a lot since I was fourteen; I didn't exactly care about feelings and emotions. That is...'til I met this girl...and then I was hooked...then...my life was never the same again."

"You fell in love."

"So madly and deeply that it made my _head_ spin. I didn't even think those feelings _really _existed up until I met her. D'ya believe in love at first sight?"

Soberman thought about this, "I believe some people can have a strong connection. I don't know about loving someone the second you see them."

"Then how _else_ do you explain it?"

"How did it feel?"

"Like my world was spinnin', I guess. It's never _stopped_ spinning since. Maybe that's just the alcohol speaking though," he cracked feebly.

Soberman glanced at the clock, "I'm afraid our hour is up," he said.

Remy was surprised the time had flown; he supposed the long pauses in between his having to try and remember all the things he hadn't particularly wanted to or cared about had been what had taken so long. He stood up, perhaps a little too anxiously.

"My, you are in a hurry to get out of here. Am I that shitty a psychiatrist?" Soberman chuckled.

"Everyone has their flaws," Remy remarked, he'd meant it as a joke, but realised right away it sounded a bit too cold. "I'm kidding. I don't know how to answer that...I don't _know_ you."

"I feel like I got to know you a little," said Soberman. "But I feel like some things were missing...so I'd like you to take some time to think about what happened between your being born and coming here that you might have overlooked..."

Remy shrugged, "I'll try. I can't promise..."

"I know it isn't easy opening up to a stranger; but you did fine. And I'll see you on thursday."

He left the office feeling relieved to be out of there; it wasn't that he didn't _like _the doctor although it was hard for him to know what to think about him. And he had more of a feeling that wanting to start from the beginning and get every single detail about his life before coming to Bayville was more of a way to draw out the sessions more, get more money.

Rogue was sitting in her old truck on the other side of the street, even from where he was Remy could hear the radio – an old Ozzy hit that he could only half-remember the lyrics to. He approached the truck and climbed in; the duct tape holding the passengers seat together stuck to his jeans and pulled away from the seat a little.

"I've been meaning to fix that," Rogue said as she turned the radio down.

"Get a new car," Remy replied quickly, feeling cranky as he pulled his seatbelt on; it brushed against the wound and he hissed in pain, he slammed his fist against the dash, "fuck."

Rogue was silent, hands on the wheel with apparently no intentions of starting the car – she gave him a couple of moments to recover and relax, then spoke. "I guess it didn't go so well."

"It's stupid – he's askin' me questions about my _child_hood like it has _anything_ to do with what's goin' on right now..."

"They like to start from the beginning," said Rogue quietly, "and Dr. Soberman...he's a great therapist...he treated me after you left..." she said softly.

He turned to look at her, she hadn't told him this before; he wondered if she hadn't mentioned because she was afraid he might have mentioned to the Doctor about who he was to her; might have affected the guys judgement somehow?

"Why didn't you tell me that?" Remy asked quietly.

"I don't know...I guess I didn't think it was important," she shrugged, "it doesn't matter. All that _does_ matter is you went...and he _will_ help you."

"Therapy is bullshit," Remy uttered.

"What is _with_ you? You've been in a bad mood since yesterday night."

"I'm not in a bad mood," he lied. To him, he felt he _wasn't. _But he wasn't so blind that he could completely ignore the slight irritability that had been on his back all night. _Your own fault,_ he thought to himself. _Mess with drugs and there's _always _a bad come down...should have seen it coming._

Rogue fell silent, she just stared at the wheel.

_Say something, or she's gonna know something's wrong and you're going to repeat _everything_ all over again._

"I'm...sorry," Remy said as he tried to relax, tried to make his tone softer, "I'm just...stressed out. I don't really _like_ the idea of therapy...and I'm annoyed with myself it's gotten to this...I should have sorted myself out long ago."

She turned to look at him, "it's not something you can help..." she reminded.

"I could have tried to help it," he admitted, knowing it was at least partly truthful.

"Do you want to go anywhere? Maybe for lunch?" she offered.

He wasn't hungry, and he felt that even if he did try to eat, he'd only manage a few bites before feeling as if he couldn't take any more. "I'm not really hungry," he answered softly. _I don't really feel like doing_ anything_, _he thought dully.

"You're never hungry anymore..." Rogue started the car, her expression sullen; he could practically see the cogs turning around in her mind that she was worried.

_It's not my __fault I'm not hungry, chere,_ he thought at her, but could find nothing to say on the subject; there was nothing he _could_ say that would make her not worry about it.

He glanced out of the side window, a poster for a new movie was up on the side of a Bus-stop, he put his hand on her arm. "How about we go to see a movie?" he offered.

She stopped had almost pulled the car away, but stopped abruptly, accidentally stalling the truck. "Really?"

"Yeah...been a while since me and you saw a movie together...did anything like that together," he added. He felt like a heel, as if he were throwing her scraps of love in pity. _It shouldn't _need_ to feel like this..._ he thought anxiously as she started the car up again.

"Okay," she nodded, "what you want to see?"

"A comedy," he replied. _God knows, I could do with a good laugh, right now._


	2. Chapter 2 Moods

Chapter Two - Moods

The movie he couldn't keep up with; he was too preoccupied, too troubled. He hadn't had a cigarette before going in and now he was craving it. _God I'm a mess,_ he thought as he bit in to the foot long hotdog that Rogue had bought for him and insisted he eat. Although not particularly hungry he ate the whole thing, and some of Rogue's nachos with cheese; he made sure to make her notice him eating so that she _wouldn't_ worry about his not eating like earlier in the car. At least then, later, he could _skip_ dinner, and not have to be in the company of everyone else in the mansion.

He wished he'd decided _not_ to opt for the romantic comedy instead of the horror which had been the other movie showing at the cinema in downtown Bayville. The romantic comedy had nudity and romantic scenes, and he knew right away during that first kissing scene where it would lead to in Rogue's mind.

Later, there were mild – although supposedly hilarious - sexual scenes, and as they played up on the big screen, he felt Rogue's hand graze the inside of his thighs, and squeeze through his jeans. In the back row, he was sure although no one could see them in here, that there was a nightvision camera somewhere focusing on them right now, and some immature teenage boys making bets about what was going to happen next. Remy took her hand and held it, he didn't want her touching him, not now...

She looked at him curiously in the half-darkness, her eyes were questioning.

As the big screen brightened, he glanced up to the very corner of the front of the screening room, "there's a camera up there," he nodded. "No one likes an audience," he finished, his whisper very quiet so they wouldn't disturb the people two rows in front.

"I don't care," she murmured, breaking her hand free of his and curling up to him, moving her hand back to where it was, he heard her laugh a little deep in her throat and she shifted to kiss his shoulder through his thin cotton t-shirt.

_No..._not now, he thought miserably. He was sure if her hand travelled any further up between his thighs that she wouldn't find much to be excited about. She circled her fingertips gently in a tender massage, moving closer and closer to the centre of his jeans. She gently bit into his shoulder now, and he winced as even her gentle bites were slightly on the rough side from the strength she still wasn't completely aware of.

"Not here," he gasped in pain.

"You wanna leave?" she whispered.

"No, I wanna see the end of the movie...no rush..." he tried to make himself sound as if he _cared_ about her touching him, as if it were something he truly _wanted_ to wait for. In his mind, he thought of where he'd hidden the ecstasy in his room and wondered if he really _was_ going to need them again.

_This is agony. Why am I not __**Interested?!**_He demanded of himself

"Okay," she nodded, and smiled, she accepted his hand again, and he held it tight within both of his hoping that she wouldn't get any more ideas about playing around.

By the end of the movie, exhaustion was beginning to weigh him down and he had to fight it by shifting constantly in his chair so he was sitting up straight. He didn't want to sleep during the movie, he knew how sensitive Rogue was and how badly she would take a gesture such as that.

When the movie was over, they left the theatre hand in hand. Rogue talked about the movie as they walked – she having enjoyed it much more than he had, and he gave the occasional nod or comment for details he'd forced himself to try to remember about what he'd just seen, but he was finding it hard to listen to her, almost as if her voice were drifting in and out.

In the car on the way home, he tried to focus on the loud music coming from the car radio to keep him awake and by the time Rogue was parking the truck in the Mansion's large garage, he was close to falling asleep. He got out of the car, the tape from the seat of the car ripped out with him, pulling some of the padding out.

"What the fuck?!" he yelled at the chair, he slammed the car door, leaving Rogue staring at him from the other side of the truck completely startled. "You need to fix this shit," he tore the tape from the back of his leg, rolled it up and tossed it to the floor.

"I'll take care of it...geez, calm down already."

"You make enough money to buy a new car – why are you still driving this shit wagon?" he demanded, he kicked the tire although it accomplished nothing.

Rogue moved around the car slowly, "I like this truck; it's the only truck I've _ever_ had...and why are you getting so mad?" she asked.

_You're losing it, LeBeau. Calm down and apologise or she's going to know something is up._

"I don't know...I'm sorry," he rubbed his head, "I think I just...need to get some sleep..." he admitted; the exhaustion blurred his eyes so that he had to blink several times to focus.

"I could use a nap myself," Rogue admitted with a little bit of a smile, the suggestion that she would go to bed with him.

"I need to be alone right now," he said sharply, he didn't mean it to sound so flat out hurtful and yet, when he saw the look on her face he knew it had come out that way, "I mean...I just...I don't think I'll sleep if you're with me...there's too much I'd want to do..." he feigned a slightly happier tone. _If she comes with me to the bed, she's going to expect more of what happened yesterday...and I can't, not right now. I'm not ready..._

_ "_You're acting really bizarrely, do you realise that?" Rogue asked quietly. "You're...all over the place..."

"I'm fine..." he took a deep breath to try and keep calm. "Sometimes it's like this."

"Is this...withdrawls?"

"Withdrawls?" he asked quickly, he thought of the ecstasy tablets...had she found out? Did she know?

"From the alcohol..." Rogue folded her arms insecurely.

"I..." he sighed, "maybe, I don't know..." when he'd stopped drinking, he'd knew there would be a need to drink, but he hadn't expected to feel irritable about it. He'd just assumed it was the ecstasy but what if it _was _from the alcohol? Could the withdrawls come so quickly after only a few short days of not drinking?

"You're on edge...you've been that way since last night...I thought it was just a bad mood but...maybe you're just...withdrawing from it..."

"I'll _be_ fine. I've gotten through worse," he replied. "I've survived a laser wound, I can get through alcohol withdrawls," he promised, he softened his tone. "I'll see you later on...I'm gonna take a nap."


	3. Chapter 3 High

Chapter Three - High

Rogue slipped into the water of a hot bath later that night; the heating in the room was on the blink yet again and her only option was a hot bath before bed to help maintain any kind of body temperature. She hadn't been able to relax since the talk with Remy in the garage. Seeing him so on edge...so unlike himself...it was worrying. She'd seen him in dark moods before, but this was something else, something completely different.

The bath was deep and the bubbles blanketed her, the water was almost burgeoning on uncomfortably hot but it was better than the icy cold of the bedroom. The only sound in the bathroom was the soft drip of water that fell from the cold water faucet every minute or so. She tried to let the rhythm lull her into a relaxed state, but it was difficult.

She sunk deep down into the tub and dipped her head under the water, the heat pressing on her icy cheeks like warm liquid velvet. She brought herself back up, wiping the foam from her face and opening her eyes to find she was not alone.

Remy was there, both arms leaning on the bath, his chin propped upon them; he was watching her with a soft and serene gaze that seemed almost impossible considering his strange mood earlier. "Hey," he said softly.

"You startled me," she admitted, she rolled onto her side and leaned her arm at the edge of the tub so she could rest her cheek on it. "Did you get any sleep?"

"Some," he confessed. "Sorry bout earlier..."

"You can't help it," she replied gently.

He picked up the washcloth from the corner of the bath, and dipped it into the water and gently and carefully caressed her arm with the cloth, leaving a stream of glistening water across her faintly tanned skin.

"You look a little better," she admitted to him, gazing up at him, he wasn't as pale and his mouth wasn't set quite so hard any more.

"I guess I just needed the sleep," he swept the cloth gently across her cheek, guiding it down across her swanlike neck to her shoulder.

"That feels nice," she murmured softly, closing her eyes. She tried not to let these mood swings of his worry her too much; at least for now he seemed mildly content and was in less of a foul mood than earlier. She had to remind herself that before he'd benefit from the therapy, things would most likely get worse first.

_I need to prepare myself for when it does,_ she thought. _All I can do is just...be here for him when things fall apart and try to pick the pieces up for him until he can do it himself._

"You're so beautiful when you're clean," he said somewhat absently, voice strangely aloof yet with an odd sweet-sounding inflection that she couldn't place.

It didn't _sound_ like his normal speaking tone at all, made him sound like a completely different person that it made her open her eyes to look at him, to make sure it really _was _him kneeling there washing her exposed flesh.

"You still look so young...and your skin is...so perfect...flawless..." he admired.

"You're weird, you know that?" she asked, making a face.

He gave a strange laugh that seemed quite out of place, "the look on your face, even _that_ is beautiful...even right now..."

"Have you been _drinking_?" she asked. His behaviour struck her as somewhat merry...like he'd been hitting the scotch again.

"Nuh-uh," he shook his head while sing-songing.

"Because right now, you're just in too _much _ of a good mood for me to believe you're the _same_ person who was kicking my truck this afternoon," she frowned just a little.

"With this thing, there's highs and lows," he said, then he gave an odd giggle, "and I'm on a high," he shifted as if he was stretching, and he smiled just a little.

"Stop talking like that, it's really creepy," she sat up in the bath. _Why is he acting so weird...I've never _ever _seen him be like _this!

He shifted to dip the cloth into the water and run it across her back, "sorry. I'm just...feelin' quite good about now..."

Rogue hugged her knees while he washed in that harder to reach area, she let her chin rest against the top of her knees and listened to him humming to himself.

"I want you to know..." said Remy. "That you're amazing...and I mean...just incredible...and just...I mean...god, it's so _unfair_ that you can be this incredible...and that we have to do all this _waiting."_

She felt him lean in close to breathe in the scent of her hair. "I don't wanna wait either," she sighed truthfully.

"Maybe y'come to my room later, and we can..._talk_ 'bout it 'lil more, hmm?" he breathed softly near her ear, then blew a soft breath upon her shoulder making her so suddenly cold it tingled.

She swayed, "Maybe."

"We can light some candles, put on some music...and...talk," he squeezed the back of her neck gently with the cloth. "Y'look tense, y'know, maybe I give you a massage..."

"Electric massage?" she asked, she wasn't sure if she could really stand the thought of being in pain again so soon. "'Cause I still kind of feel a little sore from the last time."

"I can wear gloves if you want me too...I don't mind...gloves are kinda nice...I got some nice ones..."

"Okay," she agreed, "I'll be there in a little while."

Kitty had just stepped up to Rogue's bedroom door when it opened and Remy wandered out, looking strangely relaxed as if he'd just begun to feel sleepy after a big meal.

"Petit..." he said.

Kitty pursed her lips and looked away from him. She'd wanted to see Rogue, _not_ Remy, and she wasn't sure she was quite ready to forgive his outburst in her bedroom the night before. The anger welled in her stomach like too much heavy food and she tried to breathe the feeling out.

"Ah, you're still mad at me..." he put his hands on both her arms and gently rubbed them, "c'mon, you _know_ me. I didn't _really_ mean to blow my fuse like that...wow, what is this robe made out of?" he asked, stroking the velvety material with his hands.

Kitty raised an eyebrow, "It's velour. And _yes_, I know you didn't _mean_ it, but you had _no_ right to start yelling like that. Caleb cried for most of the night after that and neither of us slept."

"I'm sorry," she said, he gripped her and pulled her to him in one sweeping motion and spun her around in a hug before letting her feet hit the floor again; the quick movement made her stitches hurt.

"Ow..."

"Sorry...did I hurt you? Do you need to sit down? I could get you a chair...wow, this is so soft..." he examined the material in his fingers, "and warm..."

"Oh my god, it's a robe, get over it," Kitty pulled away, "What is with you? You're acting...weird."

"I'm just happy to see you, and you know...I couldn't apologise more for what happened..." he gripped her shoulder as if to squeeze each word into her as he said it. "I was an ass, a giant ass and—jesus, I can't get over how nice this robe is...I want a blanket made of this stuff..."

Kitty physically moved his hand from her shoulder, he deftly twisted his fingers upwards to grip her fingers, pull her hand towards his lips and kiss it tenderly.

"Remy...are you on something?" Kitty asked worriedly.

"Please don't me mad at me, because you are my best friend, and I love you very much, there aren't words that could ever explain how much you mean to me," he kissed her hand again and gripped it, raising her arm up so the material of her sleeve brushed against his cheek, he closed his eyes and smiled serenely.

Kitty yanked her hand away, "You are wasted...did you drink on top of those painkillers?"

"I haven't had any booze..." he shook his head then leaned in "Smell my breath, it's not even minty, I didn't need to cover anything up..." he breathed on her.

She backed away a little, making a face at his cigarette breath, "But you've taken your painkillers today? Did Hank administer them?"

"Hank changed my dressing...do you wanna see my wound?" he raised his t-shirt to show her the clean dressing, laughing strangely.

"Don't..." she pulled his arms back down and fixed the t-shirt, "c'mon, I think we should go see Hank...I think you're maybe over-medicated."

"No...I'm fine...I'm just really—your hair looks pretty you know," he reached out touch her hair and she fought with his hands to stop him.

"Remy, you're not supposed to be _this _euphoric on what he gave you."

"Is that what it's called?" he laughed, "I like the way your voice sounds when you say that...say it again."

Kitty grabbed the front of his collar and pulled him down to her level so she could look into his eyes, "Your pupils are huge, what the fuck; this is _so_ not what those painkillers do..."

He gave a strange laugh, "what is wrong with you, why are you so uptight, just chill...everything's okay..."

She let his collar go, "you're high. You're totally off your head! What did you take?"

"Light up," he took her face in his hands and smiled widely at her, "this is how it's meant to be...how I'm meant to feel."

Kitty pushed him away, "I totally get it now...this is how you fooled her! You were rolling on that crap the whole time, weren't you?! How the hell did she not even figure it _out!?!_"

"I'm a good actor," he laughed.

"How many did you take?!"

"C'mere, you look tired," he pulled her back to him and hugged her a little too tightly, brushing his nose against her neck awkwardly and then planting a sloppy kiss upon her neck.

"Get off!" Kitty winced, she was almost sure she felt something pressing into her midriff and she didn't like the thought of that, "and that _better_ not be what I think it is!"

"It's okay," he murmured, "you smell really nice y'know."

"God, you're high as a fucking kite!" Kitty used her powers to pass through him to escape his too-tight hug.

He put his hand in his hair to move it away from his face; he seemed to like the feel, suddenly he was stroking his hair. "Wow, that conditioner really made a difference! L'Oreal...because I'm worth it," he cooed.

Kitty knew he was trying to make her laugh but all she could do was clench her fists and try to stop from hitting him. "I am _so_ fucking _furious_ with you right now!" she hissed at him. "You brought drugs into OUR home! A home where there's kids! How could you? Are you out of your fucking mind?!"

And then suddenly he was in tears, and sliding down the wall to sob. It was so quickly, it had almost been as if someone had flicked a switch in his head and moved it from happy to miserably sad.

"What's going on?"

Kitty turned to see Rogue had stepped out of her room wearing a towel, her wet hair up in a clip, tendrils dripping down her neck. She only had the chance to slowly glance at Remy quickly before Kitty rushed over and shooed her back into the room before Rogue could see what was really going on.

"He's upset," said Kitty with a sigh, she closed the door a little behind her although she could hear Remy's wails like that of a heartbroken lover. "You can't see him like this...he doesn't want you to see him cry..." Kitty gritted her teeth. She instantly hated herself for lying to her friend but she knew if the truth came out, the blow out would be so spectacular that it was likely to send Remy – in his current state – into a complete breakdown. "It's...it's a low. Like a really _bad, bad, baaaaaaad _low."

"What can I do?"

"Just...pretend like you never saw him, I don't think he even heard you come into the hall..." Kitty sighed, "just...don't ever let him know you saw him like that, he'd never forgive himself."

"Should we call Dr. Soberman?" Rogue asked, eyes tearing up in distress.

"No..." Kitty shook her head. "I'll take care of it..."

"But I can't just...stand here, and not do anything while he's so...so inconsolable..."

"Trust me, I can handle this...besides, you're dripping wet and half-naked...if you come anywhere near him all you're gonna do is get electrocuted or end up absorbing his powers til he's in a coma!" the words seemed a little harsh considering Rogue's long ago encounter with Carol Danvers but Kitty hadn't had enough time to think of excuses for Rogue not to see Remy on drugs.

Rogue paused and sighed.

"Just have a little faith in me."


	4. Chapter 4 No Negotiation

Chapter Four – No Negotiation

"When you're straight tomorrow I am so gonna kick your ass," said Kitty to Remy in the elevator down to the sub-basement, "again and again until you get some fucking sense into that head of yours," she uttered, shaking her head at him.

The doors slid open and Remy fell out into the hallway, making a soft thud on the metal doors; between the sobs, he was laughing, and then he curled up.

"Get your ass up," Kitty awkwardly tried to pull him to his feet and he wouldn't move.

"This floor is so smooth..." he ran his fingers across it as the tears trickled down his nose.

"HANK!" called Kitty.

A few moments later and Hank came out of his lab, looking dazed as if she'd just awoken him from a deep sleep, his glasses were askew the fur on his face seemed to be slightly flat suggesting he'd been sleeping with his face on a table.

"He's high off his ass, help me..." Kitty tugged on Remy's arm.

Hank yawned, "high?"

"Yes, higher than Cheech and Chong, now give me a hand to get him up," Kitty commanded.

Hank helped her haul Remy up in one swift movement and tossed him over his shoulder, hanging onto the back of his legs. "What did he take?" Hank asked, suddenly realising the seriousness of the situation.

"I can't be sure; I'm thinking Ecstasy."

"What makes you think...?"

"He's...gotten very touchy feely and he's just a little _too _happy..."

"Oh dear," said Hank, he scowled. "Yes, I know what you mean...least said, soonest mended."

Remy's fingers buried into the Fur of Hank's back, "You're so soft, like Kitty's robe..." he said, but then he sobbed again.

"I'm guessing he didn't know that taking ecstasy on top of depression could only magnify it..." Hank dropped Remy onto a bed in the hospital wing. "How long since he took them?"

"I don't know...how long does it take to kick in?"

"An hour, maybe two," Hank replied.

"I called the Professor; he'll be down as soon as he can," Kitty stated frustratedly; her eyes were wild somewhere between worry and anger.

Hank grabbed Remy's wrist and checked his pulse, "his pulse is slightly racing..." he then pinched the top of Remy's hand and watched as the skin stayed elevated longer than it should have. "Dehydrated too...looks like he hasn't been drinking anyway...alcohol or otherwise...look."

"Ew," Kitty made a face.

"You're not taking care of yourself, you know," Hank said chidingly to Remy.

"Like it matters," Remy sighed in response, he grabbed a handful of the fur on Hank's arm and held onto it; Kitty smacked Remy's hand away swiftly.

"Stop it! Keep your hands to yourself...and that does _not_ mean start feeling yourself up like you did in the goddamn elevator."

"Feeling himself—oh dear," Hank shook his head.

"This is so stupid," Kitty gripped her hair as if for that brief moment it might be enough to hold her down to reality. "He tries to stop drinking, and turns to drugs...if Rogue found out, she'd _never_ speak to him again..."

"It's what she wanted!" Remy cried at her as sat up.

"She didn't want you to take drugs, you stupid..." Kitty faltered for the words, and finally settled on "Irresponsible prick!"

"I think we need to discuss a course of action here," said Hank grimly.

Kitty folded her arms, "I know what _my_ course of action would be. Send him to Muir Island," she said quietly.

"That's not a bad idea," Hank agreed. "He _does_ need to be heal."

"No, I can't be away from Jessie!" Remy's yelled at her, "you can't take me from her."

"Remy, I _know_ you even you aren't irresponsible enough to _think_ that we can just let you act like _nothing happened _after what you've done..." Kitty folded her arms. "In a _house_ with KIDS, Remy. A _school, Remy! _This is a _school! What the hell were you thinking?!?!"_

Remy wouldn't meet her eye, he shook his head.

"That's just it. You never _do _think past anything in your _own_ world!" Kitty hissed. "I _believed_ in you. Yesterday when you _told_ me about all you'd been through I felt so...so proud of you...having overcome _everything..._I was so proud that you were going to take charge and work at it to get _better_...god...I feel so...so ashamed..." Kitty shook her head. "And _stupid_! Stupid to have _believed _you!"

Remy's eyes were red rimmed and glassy, and abnormally black making it feel as if she were staring into two empty sockets.

"You tried to take the easy way out _again_ instead of just facing your problems head on. I can't believe you actually thought that drugs would just solve anything! As if you learned _nothing_ from your time away..."

"I tried to make Rogue _happy_," he retorted, his face wet.

"So taking recreational drugs just to fake being interested in her is supposed to make her happy, is it?" Kitty demanded.

Hank had stood silent for the past few moments, "she's right, Remy. Recreational drugs will not fix whatever issues you're having."

Remy was silent, his mouth dry, limbs slightly trembling. "I'm sorry..." he finally whispered.

"Sorry doesn't _cut _it!" Kitty yelled at him. "Time and time again we've stood behind you, we've helped you, we've let you away with murder – things that people who've been here from the beginning would have _never _gotten away with. And you never stopped for one _minute_ to consider how _your _actions could have affected us? Our home? Our school?! What if one of the kids had found what you had, Remy...what then?! What if it had been Jessie?!"

He had no answer, he just tried to swipe away the tears that continued to pour down his face like rivers.

The sound of Professor Xavier's electric wheelchair made them all glance towards the door; Remy looked suddenly more uneasy than he had before, he pulled his knees to his chest tight and clenched his jaw.

"I wish this was an occasion we could cut you some leeway," said the Professor quietly. "Things have been overlooked; perhaps _we_ were overcompensating for playing part in the destruction of your life after you left here with accusations of murder on your back..."

Remy shut his eyes tightly as if to squeeze back the tears; he put his hands in his hair, still trembling.

"And perhaps we also overcompensated for keeping secrets. But overcompensation cannot go on any longer, or you'll never move on. And if we continue to do so, we're ignoring our responsibilities as teachers and perhaps even jeopardising the future of this place."

"What are you saying?" Remy's voice quivered.

"We want you to go to Muir Island for the regeneration procedure to heal your physical wounds. You'll spend around five days unconscious while your body recovers, and two weeks under observation for any side-effects of the treatments. On week three, you will join Excalibur for a week of training. During these four weeks, you'll be constantly supervised, prohibited from leaving the island, and will see a Psyhiatrist three times a week, and a doctor specialising in addictions. You won't be in contact with anyone from the institute other than myself. When you return, you'll continue to see Dr. Soberman."

Remy gaped. "But that's a month away...I can't be away from Jessie and Rogue that long...I can't _go_ back to that place...it's bleak and cold..."

"This is the way it _has_ to be," the Professor said calmly. "During this time, you will also be forbidden contact with anyone here at the institute – and especially not Jessie."

"No!"

"I'm sure you can understand our concern; we cannot _trust _a man who would sneak drugs into the institute – and _use _them - to be around a small child; you may be her father, Remy, but Jessie is under _my _legal guardianship. You have no _paternal_ rights and if we need to do so to protect her, we _can_ stop you from seeing her. Make no mistake, I understand how deeply you feel for your daughter – but I as a responsible legal guardians cannot risk you being around her while you're so..."

"Unstable," Kitty finished for the Professor, her voice quiet. She hated having to say the final word that seemed to nail the lid onto the coffin.

Remy made a miserable sound that was somewhere between a sob and a wail. "You can't do this to me..."

"I can and will," Said the Professor. "There's no negotiation about this. If you want to _continue _to live under this roof and be near your daughter and the woman you love, then you must make sacrifices."

"I can't believe you're being this...this cold!"

"Remy, he's giving you a second _chance," _said Kitty, she felt her eyes blurring with tears and she took a breath and forced it back, she could _not_ lose it too, not now. "Rogue doesn't even have to _know_ about this. But if you stick around she's gonna figure it out! She'll know something is really wrong – and so will Jessie. God, Remy, Jessie is so goddamn perceptive, and you know it! You can't let her _see_ you like this!"

His eyes fell to the floor, he gave an odd laugh, still highly affected by what he'd taken, he moaned in despair.

"You told me yesterday that she can _feel_ it when you're sad..." reminded Kitty. "God, if she saw you like this...I mean...fuck, you started _crying_ in front of her. She _needs_ you, Remy. And she needs you _strong_ and _healthy._ What she doesn't need is this walking _trainwreck_ of a man I'm looking at that is probably one breakdown away from completely going off the rails."

Remy licked his dry lips, and accepted a glass of water offered from Hank. He drank it all in one go without taking a breath.

Hank placed a hand on Remy's shoulder, "do what you _need_ to do on Muir Island. Heal, recover, rehabilitate...and we will do whatever damage control we can here. Rogue will never know, and neither will Jessie..."

Remy was still shaking when he spoke, "Okay."


	5. Chapter 5 Burden

Chapter Five - Burden

Remy felt like walking death twenty hours later, after having barely slept while hiding out in the sub-basement's brig to avoid having to find Rogue. It was the one place she wouldn't have thought to have looked for him. So while Kitty, Hank and the Professor pretended that he'd simply 'gone for a walk', he tried to pull himself together in the small cell.

As he quickly sobered from the effects, the cold steel of the walls was no longer as pleasant to look at as it had seemed to be, and the mattress that had seemed so comfortable to lie upon was now just a flat roll of padding that let him feel the hard steel beneath him as he lay.

He'd been feeling constantly thirsty since the night before, only a couple of hours after taking the pill, and now the cold hard prick of a needle and an intravenous drip was keeping him hydrated. It was all he could do now to stop from yanking the thing from his hand to scratch the irritating feeling that came with it.

At meal times, Hank brought him food although he could barely eat it, and would push it around the plate while sitting thinking about what he'd done.

It was around seven pm finally when the door of the brig opened for the last time, and Hank stepped in, the big blue man had never seemed more Grim as he stood there looking at him, holding his small medical kit box.

"How are you feeling?" asked Hank as he walked over.

"Lousy," Remy remarked, "got a massive headache."

"Yes, I'm sure you do," Hank nodded, he squatted down and took Remy's hand, removed the tape holding the needle in place and carefully slid it out. "We're going to give you an hour to pack," he said. "Kurt will take you to Muir Island with him in one of our red-eyes. He'll also return you when your month is over..."

Remy watched as Hank dabbed the small needle wound with disinfectant and then applied a bandaid. He realised suddenly that through everything he'd suffered this whole time, he was almost positive he'd never truly thanked Hank for the treatment, and attention. Not the_ proper _thank you the guy obviously deserved.

"I..." Remy cleared his throat, "I'm sorry...about being...a burden."

"You can't _help _feeling like a burden, it's part of the depression. And you don't need to apologise to me," sad Hank.

"I've taken up so much of your time – time you could have spent researching, or helping the X-Men."

"I am helping the X-Men," said Hank, "whether or not you're in the field, you _are_ still one of us. And maybe once you've healed completely you can begin to rejoin us in that capacity again..."

"To be honest," said Remy, "It might be nice," he rubbed his head to try and ease away the pain, "to be part of the team again...a proper X-Man...one who isn't a liability."

Hank said nothing. He took Remy's wrist and checked his pulse, watching his own watch as he did so. "Your heartbeat has returned to normal," he noted.

"Hank..." said Remy, he swallowed, "Thank you...for...y'know...bein' here to take care of me...not many people would have stuck around this long and put up with it..."

"You don't need to thank me, it's my job," said Hank, although there was a note of gratitude in his voice that he'd finally been thanked.

"Yeah, but you actually care...and it's more than a lot of people who've ever tried to 'heal' me have ever done for me...and you've done it all these years without so much as a snide complaint..."

"You may still be under the effects," said Hank, making a face; it was obvious that the very brief openness had given him cause for concern; he grabbed his small flashlight from the box, tipped Remy's head up and examined his eyes.

"I'm not," said Remy, "that shit always wears off fast on me..."

"You've taken it before," Hank realised, tossing the flashlight back in the box. "Well you seem to have come down; pupils are fine, pulse is fine..." he retrieved a blood pressure cuff from the box and he slid it onto Remy's arm, strapped it firmly in place, then turned the small portable machine on.

"Is all this necessary?" Remy asked; all he wanted to do was get out of there...all he'd been thinking of since learning where he would be going for the next month was getting the chance to see Rogue and Jessie before he left; he wouldn't be allowed to keep in contact with them while on the Island and the thought pained him as much as the thought of losing a limb.

"Are you anxious to leave?"

"I want to see Rogue and Jessie before I go."

"Rogue, you can see," Hank replied. "Jessie, on the other hand, I'm afraid not."

"But--"

"It would upset her and yourself far too much; it's better she doesn't see you right now because she _will_ know something is very wrong. Already in the short time you've known about her...you've bonded more than I've seen fathers bond with children they've held since birth..." Hank replied. "She's so in tune with you; she's been pacing around a lot today asking where you've been, when you're coming back as if she knows something is wrong..."

"It's all the more reason why I need to see her and pretend like nothing is."

"No," Hank shook his head, "I'm sorry. You look ill, Remy. You're still dehydrated, you look so thin, and tired – I fear your current condition may only frighten her into thinking you may _not_ be coming back."

Remy gaped, "but it's a _month_ that I have to be away from here...and I can't even say goodbye to my own daughter?"

"You can leave her a letter," said Hank, "she already knows about your wound so you can tell her that you've gone to recover and it'll take a long time. But make it short – don't give her too much to mull over and worry about."

"Can she even read?"

"I'll read it out to her, if needs be," said Hank.

"And what am I supposed to tell Rogue?" Remy asked quietly; he swallowed hard, his throat hurt as if he'd been swallowing sand.

"It's up to you what you _want_ to tell her. Personally, I would leave out the part about last night. You can be as honest as you like about everything else; rest and recovery, and intensive therapy. It's the truth so explaining it shouldn't be too difficult. If you intend to never tell her about last night, you should insist that it's your decision to get better now rather than two sessions a week with Dr. Soberman..."

"Okay," Remy nodded; already the thought of having to confront Rogue about leaving broke his heart.

"Normally, I would suggest being honest with Rogue, but..." Hank hit the function button on the blood pressure monitor finally. "I think that the truth about last night, in this case would only hurt both of you..."

"Does Kurt know?" Remy asked dully. "About why I'm going there?"

"He's aware of your...mental situation your wound. Moira _has_ been informed for medical reasons, but you can rely on her to be discrete."

"What about the...stuff in my room?"

"I removed it myself," said Hank quietly, "luckily Logan is away on one of his solo missions; if he'd been here...he'd have known about that stash."

Remy was suddenly reminded of how acute Logan's sense of smell was – like those sniffer dogs at the airports.

The monitor beeped and Hank checked it, "perfect blood pressure – surprisingly. You're okay to fly."

Remy almost wished he wasn't.

"Well, you can go and pack now," Hank said, removing the cuff from Remy's arm. "Write your letter to Jessie and leave it with me, I'll deliver it to her myself."

Remy stood slowly, his sense of balance was still slightly off, it took a moment for him to regain it; although he supposed it was his fault for spending most of the night sitting in the same spot.

Hank reminded, "I'll see you in the hangar in an hour."

Momentarily, Remy considered running; try to find Jessie and Rogue and convince them to leave with him now, so they could all go somewhere out of range of the X-Men and live together like a family.

_That can't happen_, Remy thought. _I need to see this through...for them both._


	6. Chapter 6 Goodbye Letter

Chapter Six – Goodbye Letter

_Jessie,_

_ Don't worry when Hank hands you this letter on my behalf. _

_ Everything is fine. I just don't like goodbyes, even if it's only for a _

_ little while, so I wrote this letter for you, and asked him to give it to_

_ you when I've left._

_ I have to go away for a little while; there's a place called Muir Island in Scotland, and the doctors there want to help me get better so I won't have the hole in my chest any more. They have this _

_ awesome machine that they say can completely heal me up – how _

_ cool is that? _

_ But it means being away for a while, for about a month..._

_ and when I come back I'll be good as new. I won't be able to get in_

_ touch from where I'll be but the month will fly by, then when I get back_

_ I'll take you for ice cream and we'll catch up on everything I missed._

_ Don't give Kitty a hard time, and don't worry about me while I'm gone and try not to miss me – I promise I'm coming back._

Remy finished writing the letter and paused where he should sign, he wasn't sure how to sign anymore. He'd very almost finished the letter with 'love from Daddy', but caught himself before writing it down. After a moments consideration, he signed _Gambit_ at the very bottom of the letter, still feeling it incredibly strange and almost perverse that he should expect her to call him this.

_It's still better than Mr. LeBeau_, he thought, hearing that name always gave him a slight chill. Mr. LeBeau was his father, and always had been – and he certainly didn't need reminding of him.

He folded the letter up twice and wrote her name upon it in capital letters, the J being three times bigger than the rest. With that done, he moved to the dresser and began to remove what little clothes he owned and pack them into his holdall.

"Remy...where've you been..."

Remy turned to the door where Rogue stood, her eyes were slightly frantic, her nose was red from the cold. "Hank just said you got back from god knows where...like you just waltzed in like...nothing happened I mean...you just disappeared last night...never said _anything_ to _anyone_ about where you were going."

He paused, he had to come up with something at least half-believable. "I went out drinking...all night..." he frowned and looked down; he wondered if the lie was perhaps even worse than the truth about the ecstasy pills might have been. "I guess I can't quit cold turkey as well as I thought I could..."

"Oh Remy..." she looked so disappointed, so upset with him, and he felt his heart sink in his chest; if it wasn't the truth, could he still technically be _ashamed_ of it?

"I had a really bad...bad night...everything just really got to me...I couldn't help myself...I had to."

"Why didn't you tell me when you came to the bathroom..."

"I thought I could just...try and pretend like things were okay so you wouldn't worry...and I thought maybe that if we were together that I'd maybe be okay, but then I just...I crashed...and I couldn't pull myself back up out of it...there was no booze in the place so...I went to the bar until it closed...then I picked up a bottle of Jim Beam and I went to the graveyard...drank beside Gabrielle's grave..."

_I'm going to hell for that lie,_ he thought miserably.

"Oh, Remy..." she said again, her eyes brimmed with tears. "You should have come to me..."

"I couldn't stand to let you see me like that, chere..." he sighed; he only vaguely remembered Kitty's words last night when she'd said that to Rogue while he'd been sobbing his heart out in the hallway. "So I decided, I need to go. Not for good. Just to Muir Island..." he said, and he gestured to his half-packed bag. "I need to clear my head...get away from things..."

She leaned against the doorframe, she looked down to the floor. "You mean get away from me."

"Yes," he said, and for a moment, it was almost the truth. "I can't have you see me like that again...I can't bear it...it breaks my heart."

Her eyes raised to his, they were glassy, "But I could help you through this..."

"Through the mood swings, the anger, the hostility – picking arguments for absolutely no reason?" he asked. "I can't fix myself and worry about if I'm hurting you at the same time..." he sighed. "I can't drag you through _my_ personal hell. I've been doing it for years and I just can't do it any more."

"What about our plans to go to Muir Island with Jessie."

"When I get back...we'll go somewhere...somewhere fun...Disneyland...we could go there..." he said; the thought of perhaps getting back and a trip to Disneyland with Rogue and Jessie became yet another reason to want to get better.

"How...how long do you think it will take...?"

"I spoke to the Prof and he thinks a month would be good...it won't fix me completely, but I'll have a healed chest and I'll be somewhat better mentally. I won't call, I won't write, I'll just completely focus on getting better..."

"How will I know if you're okay?" Rogue asked worriedly.

"The Professor will speak with Moira I guess...she'll keep him updated and I guess he'll let you know..." said Remy. "I have to go to the Hangar now...and I don't want to go through a really emotional goodbye, chere. I've had enough crying to last me a lifetime already."

She gave a soft distant laugh, and she blinked tears, "alright. I guess...I guess you're right. You need to do this, and...if it means sacrificing a month apart so you can get better...I can live with it...but you _are_ coming back, right? I mean _really _coming back..."

"Of course. We're gonna get engaged, remember?" he feigned a smirk for her benefit, and she returned it at him; hers more genuine. "Keep an eye on Jessie...spend some time with her. She sometimes thing you don't like her..."

Rogue frowned, "that's not true."

"I know it isn't, but let her know that yourself," Remy grabbed the last few items out of the dresser and forced them into his bag; he supposed if there was anything else he would need he could always get it from the island. "I need to go now...Kurt is in the hangar waiting to take me there.

Rogue flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek against the good side of his chest, "I love you so much."

"I love you too, ma cherie..." he kissed her hair tenderly, a tiny charge made the fine hairs on her head slightly stand up in response. "I love you too."

The End – Or is it? Mwahahahahahahahahahahah

(Since it's Christmas soon I decided to upload this sooner than I had intended. Hope people aren't too put off with the way the story is going at the moment. Thanks to the people who reviewed the last few episodes, reviews mean so much to me, and do encourage me to write more. Hope you all enjoyed this episode! :) )


End file.
